


Rain

by llchrymose



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga)
Genre: I just want them to be happy, M/M, Sweet, Wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 13:38:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17829590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llchrymose/pseuds/llchrymose
Summary: Nezumi returns after to No.6 after nearly a decade since the walls fell, and finds it's changed more than he expected.





	Rain

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Hello dear reader! This fanfic is what I imagine would transpire after the show's ending, it is a sort of conglomeration of the anime, manga, and novel so beware of possible spoilers. Enjoy!

“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”  
{Hamlet, Act 2 Scene 2}

April 17, 2024  
Shion stands from his chair slowly, reaches his sore hands above his head, and stretches with a soft yawn. The laboratory's narrow office had lost its familiarity around midnight, twisting and shifting beneath elongated shadows. Now, at 2:55, it was barely recognizable, some obsidian other world. The only source of light was the faint bluish glow of his monitor, illuminating his pale hair and the small landfill consuming his desk. Countless paper coffee cups, protein bar wrappers, and scattered files littered his workspace. Ecology articles and data reports rest precariously in haphazard piles, and to his tired eyes they soar, looming like paper mountains.   
“Have I ever been so disorganized?”, Shion wonders, folding forward at the waist to let his upper body hang. He stays there a moment, palms pressed against the cool tile floor, and waits for the blood to rush to his head. It helps to clear away some of the fog clouding his mind. His spine cracks happily as he stands upright again, his cheeks flushed so deeply that the smooth ruby scar curled under his left eye is almost imperceivable. 

He considers calling it a night. Imagines packing up his things and going home to his quiet apartment. A part of him pleads for rest and reprieve, a good night's sleep far removed from the problems of his turbulent city. Yet his focus is drawn to the endless list of work he has to finish; the last few data entries waiting to be submitted, his unfinished report on the biodiversity and radiation levels of the foreign soil samples they collected this week, and the mess around him.  
With a disgruntled, tired sigh, he pushes the cotton sleeves of his button-down up to his elbows, and resumes where he left off. Alone. Swimming in research and darkness.   
Finally, at 4:34 am (a new personal record) Shion emerges from his office, and bleary-eyed with exhaustion, begins the short walk home. The early morning air is cool but pleasant, heavy with the sweet scent of rain and blooming jasmine. A damp breeze brushes the strands of Shion's hair aside and places a wet kiss on the back of his neck. It feels too familiar, sends a shiver down his spine as he flips up the collar of his coat. 

The streets are quiet, almost eerily so, but Shion doesn't mind. If he is still enough, he can hear the faint rustling of leaves, the birds beginning to stir and sing.   
His sneakers scuff softly against the pavement. A melody he can’t quite hear and for a moment, in his sleepless, unguarded state, he forgets that it is painful to remember. The chaotic din of the crowded market that had once existed in this place, the smell of sweat and rotting food, the biting chill of the winter air and Nezumi beside him; a distant memory, but vivid enough it could have been yesterday.   
Shion arrives at his apartment building and walks a half block past it before noticing. When he finally steps into his foyer, the sun is beginning to rise. His home is small and modest, mostly empty of furniture besides a bed, a desk, and faded olive armchair. Hundreds of books, in every genre, color, and size are stacked in neat rows lining almost every wall.   
His most prized possession stands alone from the rest, on the window sill by his bed, green cover faded and pages tattered and worn; Nezumi's copy of Hamlet, read and loved so thoroughly its binding had started to unravel. Actually, most of the novels he owned had been Nezumi’s. He had moved them here before the demolition of west block two years ago. Karan had helped him pack and load them into his car. It felt strange, emptying the home they had shared. Shion had often visited, kept it clean and free of dust, had even lived there for a few months after… after the walls fell. Lost in thought, he doesn't notice the man sitting quietly in the shadows of his living room until he speaks.


End file.
